Sabina hadn't even realised she'd slept until someone was shaking her awake. She groaned and turned over, pressing her face against the seat. A second later she remembered where she was and just who she was sharing a car with. Now wide awake she spun round, moving away from his touch. He didn't seem to mind.

"We're here."

She looked out of the car at the dimly lit street. There were a few small buildings and a couple of low rise mountains in the distance.

"This isn't Vegas." she pointed out

"No." he said, agreeing with her. He opened the car door, stepping out and she hurriedly did the same.

"So where are we?"

The assassin seemed to think for a moment, probably deciding whether or not to tell her.

"Beatty."

"And where's that?" she asked, annoyed. It was as if he'd die if he told her any actual useful information.

As if to prove her point, he didn't answer. He simply pointed at the building they'd stopped at. "El Portal Motel" the sign read, "The Gateway to Death Valley."

"Lovely." she said, "this is what, two star?"

Gregorovitch paid her no attention.

"Wait here." He instructed and headed inside the reception building. She stood, wrapping her arms around herself, it was cold in the desert at night. She wondered whether there were people looking for her, and if Brad had told anyone she hadn't actually been kidnapped.

A minute later the assassin reappeared and she watched as he made his way over to her. He walked with ease, a sort of grace that she couldn't put her finger on. There was a noise from inside the motel and Gregorovitch turned slightly. It was as if he was more liquid than solid. A strange coldness ran through her body as she realised; he walked like Alex. Or rather, Alex walked like him. They both had the same familiar smoothness, the same agility and elegance of someone used to not being heard. She was still reeling when he came to a stop in front of her. He passed her a key.

"Go in, get some sleep. We'll be up early tomorrow." He set off down the street.

"Hey!" she called after him. He didn't turn. The likeness to Alex was uncanny, "Where are you going?" She didn't really think he would answer, and was surprised when he did.

"To find you some new clothes."

With that, he was gone, melting into the darkness. She looked down at the key he had given her. It was old and battered and there was a stain on the leather key ring but the number five was still visible. She located the right door and stepped inside. It was as cold as the outside. All the same, she closed the door and rubbed her hands together, blowing on them. She flicked on the light and it sputtered into life. There were several dead insects in it. The rest of the room looked clean enough and she hurried to the radiator, twisting the valve. A minute later, there was a hopeful sign of warmth. Looking around she spotted the en suite and ventured in. It didn't have a working light but she didn't feel like showering anyway. She headed back to the bedroom and caught sight of the fridge, her stomach grumbled and she checked inside hopefully. Nothing.

"Great." she said to herself, "just great."

There was nothing else to do except sleep. She didn't even bother taking off her shoes as she crawled into the bed furthest from the door and shut her eyes. Within seconds she was asleep.


Yassen returned to the motel, shutting the door quietly behind him. The girl was obviously asleep, her chest rising and falling. She'd taken the bed furthest from the door. Smart girl.

He dumped the contents of his arms on the end of her bed and she shifted in her sleep. He didn't really care if he woke her up. She was an inconvenience, and he wasn't going to go out of his way to not be one for her. He had already considered beating Alex's location out of her. He made his way into the bathroom, switched on the fan and the light. He flicked the switch a couple of times to be sure it wasn't working, then gave up, moving instead to turn on the shower and left again, it would take a while to heat up. Seedy motels like this one always had shoddy water pressure.

He sorted through the items on the girls bed and divided them into piles, one for her, one for him. He doubted she was going to be happy with what he'd brought her. He headed for the shower, shut the bathroom door behind him, stripped quickly and climbed in. He stood there under the warm water for a while, thinking. He could see why Alex liked her, he hadn't really understood their friendship when he'd met her the first time, but now he thought he might get it. She was brave, and her loyalty to Alex was obvious. She'd put on a good show for the military unit at the school, and she'd had the gumption to piece together his message. He too admired her for her ability to read him like a book. It wasn't an understanding she had of him exactly, but she'd been right about what Alex would do if he hurt her. He didn't think she would have had the balls to actually tell him though.

If it had been any other sixteen year old, like her little rat faced friend, he wouldn't have hesitated to beat Alex's location out of them. Alex had risked his life for this particular girl though and if any harm came to her, Alex would hate him. He could put up with a lot, but the idea of Hunter's son hating him, he didn't think he could bear it. When Alex had told Yassen he was going to kill him on the rooftop with Sayle, it was like a kick in the teeth. When Alex had been standing over him with a gun, a look of pure hated on his face it had been like a knife in his chest. When Lieutenant Stanley had told him that Alex was being forced into cosying up to a paedophile and told to 'go as far as he thought the situation warranted' it was like someone had twisted the knife. When he'd heard about the pills the government had been forcing down his throat, it was like he was dying all over again.

He had thought on Air Force One that he was sending Alex to his destiny, that he'd be home, but evidently Scorpia had found it hard to look past Alex's affiliation with MI6. It was possible that Alex just hadn't gone of course, but he knew Alex, knew he would have tracked them down if it was the last thing he did. Alex was also not a killer. Sure he'd killed people, Yassen had seen it in Cornwall after all, but he knew that the memories of those people would forever be on Alex's mind. He had thought however: that with the right encouragement and the knowledge that his father had been a respected Scorpia agent Alex would be able to make a life there, but obviously it wasn't meant to be. He was surprised Alex had gotten away from Scorpia unscathed though, even with the disrepair Alex had left it in, surely there had to have been some retaliation. Maybe there had been, he wondered. Maybe he just didn't know.

He switched off the water, quickly dried himself with the decently clean towel and pulled on the clothes he'd taken. He headed back into the room to find the girl sitting up in bed, looking at the pile of stuff he'd brought her. She started when he entered the room and offered a small smile. He did not return it.

"Is the hair dye for me or for you?" she asked, holding up a box. He looked at her, unimpressed. Her smile faltered.

"The blonde dye is for you." he said simply, indicating his own blonde hair. "I have my own."

She looked crestfallen, obviously she didn't want to dye her hair. A moment later she seemed to recover but there was a forlorn note to her tone "But my hair is dark," she pointed out, "It won't make a difference to it."

He strode over to the bed and picked up a box that had fallen to the floor. He chucked it at her. Bleach. She nodded in understanding.

"Do you want me to do it now or-"

"You can do it tomorrow," he chucked her another box, this time a sandwich. "here."

She ripped it open and took a huge bite, taking second before she'd even chewed the first. He felt his eyebrow twitch but tried not to look incredulous. Obviously it didn't work as she looked sheepish, swallowed and took a smaller bite. He opened the map he'd found in the town and sat on his bed, pulling his gun out of his waistband. He heard a small intake of breath from behind him and rolled his eyes. He reviewed the map. Obviously they were heading east but was it north or south? He resisted the urge to throttle the girl. It would have been easier if she wasn't so stubborn.

"Where to next, Miss Pleasure?"

She shifted, careful not to knock the items off the bed and peered over his shoulder. He could tell that she wanted to look closer but she stood half a metre away. Alex would have no such qualms he thought. Then again, Alex was Alex. There was no one quite like him. That was why he liked him so much.

He handed the map to her. She took it gingerly. Five minutes later, she was still studying it and he was growing impatient. The silence seemed to stretch on. He let out a bored sigh, indicating for her to hurry up.

"El Paso." she said eventually. "Texas." She gave the map back to him and got back into her bed tugging the covers up to her chin, dislodging the items on the end of them.

He took his turn to study the map. They'd go south from Beatty, on route 93 then go east from Tucson on route 10. It would be a long drive, but worth it. He stretched and looked at his watch. It was 3am, he had had to take a longer route to get here to avoid the main roads and helicopters he knew that would be out looking for them. Yassen knew he should sleep, but the constant reminder of what he was doing and why was ever present in the back of his mind and he knew he wouldn't be able to.

Instead, he stripped off his t-shirt, picking up a box of dye and headed into the bathroom. Optimistically he tried the light switch again, and to his surprise the light flickered on above him, it was dim, but would serve its purpose. Twenty minutes later he exited the bathroom, his hair now dark ginger in colour. He didn't care if it suited him or not, he hadn't done it for style.

To his surprise the girl was still awake. Sitting up, going through the clothes.

"You guessed my size?" she asked. She didn't look too happy, he suspected he might have got the wrong size. He chose not to reply. "You guessed two sizes too big." she deadpanned. There was silence. He knew she was expecting an apology, or at least an answer. He offered neither. He crossed the room and picked up his discarded shirt. Before he could pull it on, she said:

"Where did you get that scar?"

Yassen looked down at his chest. There were several scars, some ugly, some beautiful. All harsh reminders of the life he'd lived. He wasn't in the mood to talk.

He knew what she was going to say before she said it, "The one across your neck."

He paused, thinking over his answer, he would never tell her the real truth. It was between him and Hunter. And perhaps Alex. "Someone saved my life."

She seemed satisfied with the answer. "And that one?" she asked, pointing at the bullet wound in the centre of his chest, "is that where-" her voice trailed off. He remained silent.

"You saved our lives that day." she said, offering a small smile, "I never thanked you."

He pulled on his shirt completely, tugging it down to his hips.

"I also endangered them, you do not need to thank me."

She tilted her head in concession, but didn't look away from the spot where his wound was, even though it was now hidden by the shirt. "You and Alex match I suppose." she said absentmindedly. "Though his is more," her hand lazily directed to her left chest. She yawned widely.

Though she was obviously tired, and unthinking what she'd said had raised so many questions in his mind he regretted not speaking to her before. "What do you mean, we match?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes were slightly glazed, but at his question her eyes flicked up to meet his. Her eyebrows furrowed a little. "Alex got shot." she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he was a fool not to know it, "Just outside the bank."

Her words crashed around him like ice had been thrown down his collar. He knew something must have shown in his face because she looked taken aback. "You didn't know?" she asked incredulously.

Eventually he got a hold of himself. "I was in a coma for over a year." he snapped, "And no one tells prisoners of the state, state secrets."

That must have been Scorpia's retaliation then, they'd been angry at Alex for abandoning his heritage and rejoining MI6. He knew nothing about the details about Alex's life after Air Force One. All Yassen knew was that he was now being forced on a mission by MI6. There was a whole year's gap in between. He hoped it had been as mundane as his, but knew it wouldn't be. MI6 was right, Alex was too valuable an asset to leave alone. Their scheme with the hormone blocking drugs was, quite frankly, genius. He hated it, and it was barbaric but he wouldn't have flinched if they had been pumped into someone else. Why did it have to be Alex? Why was it always Alex?

He picked up his gun from the end of his bed and slid it under the pillow, lying down on his front, his hand curled around it and facing the door. He really didn't feel like talking now. He closed his eyes, but didn't sleep, just listening. He knew the girl would be confused at his sudden behaviour but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was get to Alex. Once he was there, he didn't know what he would do. That was a problem for another time.

Instead of hearing the girl go back to bed, he was surprised to hear her get out of bed and switch on the light. He heard the tap running and twenty minutes later a small whimper. She was bleaching her hair then. Good. He hadn't known if she would have the guts to do it. If she hadn't, he would have knocked her out and done it for her.


Alex hadn't meant to go to sleep, but the next thing he knew he was being roused by a gentle hand and flurry of light as the drapes on the window were opened. He winced at the brightness of the sun and a harsh voice snapped out from beside him.

"Slower Georges!"

Alex's heart gave a violent thud and he forced his eyes open, squinting. Next to him he saw Anatolievich, he was in a different suit to when Alex last saw him. He must have slept through the entire day. He looked over to the window where someone was making a poor job of only slightly opening the curtains. The figure looked like Tom but Alex knew who it would be.

"Georges?" he mumbled, incredulously. He tried to sit up, but leant on his sore fingers which felt swollen and gasped in pain.

"Careful, Alexander, you don't want to do yourself more harm." Anatolievich crooned.

Alex gave a small smile, but continued to push himself up anyway, despite the hand on his good shoulder. It was a comforting feeling, to know someone was there next to him.

"Alex!" Georges said loudly, his english heavily accented, "how are you?"

"Peachy." Alex said, sarcastically. The fog of sleep was lifting from his brain and he realised that he needed to make sure that Georges went along with the 'I've known him for ages' act.

"Alexander," Anatolievich said, in a warning tone, though his voice was still soft, "you know how I feel about sarcasm."

"Right," Alex agreed, looking up at him, "sorry. How long did I sleep?" he asked, though he thought he knew the answer.

"Almost thirty hours," Anatolievich said, sounding slightly impressed, "it's almost ten in the morning."

"Sorry." Alex said again, "oh- and our game of chess!"

"Not to worry Alexander, chess can wait." he patted Alex's shoulder, fingers coming up to play with the curls at the end of his hair. "I just thought you would want to see your friend. His father's allowed him the weekend away from school to come see you. What do you say to Mr Lindsay?"

Alex looked wildly about, he hadn't even realised the man was in the room. He stepped forward out the shadows when his name was mentioned.

"Thank you, Sir." Alex said, horribly aware of the hand still in his hair.

The man gave a sigh. "Yes well," he said tightly, "didn't really have much choice." There was an uncomfortable silence. Alex knew that he had to be alone with Georges and soon.

"Do you think Georges and I could have some time alone?" he asked, directing his question towards Anatolievich, "You know, to catch up?"

Anatolievich nodded, finally taking his hand out of Alex's hair. He immediately missed it and then felt sick for thinking that, but he'd deal with it later.

"Good idea." Anatolievich said, stepping away from the bed, "Monte?" he asked, gesturing to the door. The other man nodded and followed him out of the room, closing it sharply behind him.

Georges came to stand at the end of the bed. "Here," he said, bringing something out of his pocket, "got you your phone." He threw it at him. Alex struggled to catch it and it landed in his lap.

"Watch it!" he yelped.

Georges grinned, moving to sit on the end of the bed.

Alex scrambled to pick up his phone and selected the bug detector. Immediately the screen turned red. He'd have to be careful then.

"So, Al," Georges began, shifting closer to the centre of the bed, "what happened?"

"I got kidnapped." Alex said simply.

Georges' eyes widened, "What? Really?"

Alex nodded, eyebrows pinched slightly, "Didn't your dad tell you?"

Georges' face fell. "He's not my dad. But no, he didn't tell me."

There was an unforgettable silence as both of them avoided the other eyes. Alex nudged Georges' side with his foot.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I know you two don't get on."

"Al, don't be sorry." Georges said, almost exasperated, "it's not a big deal." He paused, "What was it like?" he asked, his tone suddenly lowered, "what did they do?"

It was only natural, Alex thought, Tom would ask the exact same thing. They were teenagers, they didn't know better than to ask.

"They just beat me up a bit." Alex said. He didn't want to go into it with Georges. For both their sakes.

Georges' mouth bent into a smile, "Wicked."

Alex didn't know what to say to that, so he settled for silence. He couldn't decide whether to tell Georges the truth, or to keep him firmly in the dark. It would be nice to have someone on his side, an ally, but he also wanted Georges out as soon as possible. He didn't want Georges to see how he behaved around Anatolievich.

In the end, it was a split second decision.

"Hey, Georges? Would you mind if we played a game instead of talking? I'm a little tired."

The other boy looked at him a little oddly, but nodded. "Sure, anything you want mate."

"Can you see if there's any paper in these draws?"

Georges slid off the bed and began rifling through the draws. Eventually he produced a notepad and a ballpoint pen. "Bingo!" He climbed back on the bed, this time, shoulder to shoulder with Alex. "Hangman?"

"Go on then," he agreed. Perfect. "Actually-" he said, stopping Georges from drawing out the board, "I'll go first."

He took the notepad and pen from Georges, tugging them out of his hands. He drew a random number of spaces and offered it to Georges. The noise of the pen was loud in the room. He'd have to do this carefully.

"R?"

Alex wrote down 'R'

"S"

Alex wrote down two O's. Georges looked confused but Alex put a finger to his lips and gestured for him to keep guessing.

"A,E,I,O,U"

Alex completed his first sentence.

Room is bugged.

Georges read what he'd written over his shoulder, his mouth dropping open. Alex gave him a pointed look.

"T,M,N,L,P."

Pretend you've known me for years.

Georges gave Alex a look which clearly asked. 'What's going on?" but he continued guessing letters,

"B,C,D,F,G,H,J,K,Q"

"You can't just guess all the letters in order!" Alex cried, fake annoyed.

Explain later. Stay away from Anatolievich.

"I can and I will," Georges said, "V,W,X,Y,Z."

Please don't think less of me

"I've written them down," Alex said loudly, "but I still say that's cheating."

"You can't cheat at hangman." Georges said, sounding completely natural, but his face was full of confusion.

"Your turn then," Alex said, ripping off the paper, stuffing it into his cast. Georges took the notepad and drew:

"T"

Georges filled in two of the spaces.

"A,E,I,O,U"

He filled in three more, and then began to draw the hangman frame.

"I'll go with the Georges method, and say: B,C,D,F,G."

Another two letters filled in

The page now read:

_ _ A T T _ E F U C _

Alex took the pen from Georges and filled in the rest of the letters.

WHAT THE FUCK

He grinned at Georges to find him grinning back. "That's a crap word."

"Yours was worse, I don't even know what it means." There was intent behind the words but Alex knew he couldn't explain now. He wondered why Anatolievich had moved him to this room. Perhaps because of the kidnapping threat which was now very much real. Real to Anatolievich anyway.

"I'm bored of hangman," Georges said, throwing the pad of paper into the draw, "we used to play it all the time in first year, remember? Only thing we could do after ten 'cause they took our phones."

"And Ms Dane shouting at you when you tried handing in a fake one." Alex said, playing along.

"That must have been year eight you're thinking of dude," Georges said, eyebrows raised, "Ms Dane wasn't around in first year."

Alex cursed mentally. He could pretend to have attended St Albans all he wanted, but there were things which he simply just couldn't know. The file they'd given him in the helicopter had been laughably brief.

"She wasn't?" Alex asked, trying to sound geninute, "It feels like that old cow's been around for years."

They fell into easy conversation, chatting about people Alex had met like Mr Lauton, Tim and Matthew Howard, the boy he had had fight with. Eventually, a headache began creeping up on Alex and he knew that it was the drug withdrawal.

"Georges, would you get me my anxiety meds?" he asked, he knew that Georges knew that they weren't for anxiety, but he may as well know everything. At the mention of the drugs Georges froze, then looked at Alex in alarm. He knew he must be remembering the 'joke' Alex had told back at the school. He'd never regretted his careless tongue more.

I work for MI6 as a teenage spy and they use these pills to keep me small.

"Sure, where are they?" Georges asked slowly.

"Maybe in my bag?" he asked. He'd spotted the strap of the stachel at the foot of the bed. Alex didn't actually know where they were. He could only hope Anatolievich hadn't thrown them out thinking they were something else, it was the sort of thing he would do.

"They're here." He tossed Alex the pills the same way he'd thrown the phone and Alex looked at him unimpressed as they bounced off his chest.

"Ow." he said pointedly.

"Don't give me that Al," Georges said, throwing himself back down on the bed, "you've clearly had worse."

Alex shook a couple of the pills out onto his lap, and shut the lid with the same hand.

"Water?" he asked Georges, expectantly.

The other boy sighed resignedly and leaned across him to grab the decanter, pouring out a glass of water for him, deliberately trying to put himself in Alex's personal space. Alex sat there bemusedly until Georges sat back on his haunches and handed a glass to Alex.

"There you go Princess."

"Thanks." Alex said sarcastically, throwing back the pills and following it with water. They continued their conversation, chatting about school and the CAT scans which they'd done.

It was past noon when Anatolievich returned to the room. This time, he wasn't accompanied by Linsday. He knocked softly on the door and pushed it open gently. He may as well have barged in from the sudden abrupt stop their conversation had come to.

"How are you feeling Alexander?"

Alex sat up quickly, wincing as his elbow twinged. "I'm well, thank you, Sir."

Anatolievich took in the two of them sat side by side on the bed, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Georges, your father is just meeting with a business colleague of his in the drawing room." Anatolievich said, cooly. At this, Georges looked like he wanted to shout at Anatolievich. Probably something along the lines of 'he's not my father' but Alex pressed his leg to Georges' and gave him a warning look out the corner of his eye.

"You can go down and wait for him to finish and then I'm sure you'll want to spend time with each other?" Anatolievich continued, "You've been away for so long after all."

It wasn't a suggestion, and Georges seemed to pick up on it. He nodded and slipped off the bed. He was keeping his composure rather well considering the cryptic message he'd just received from Alex. The door shut behind him and Anatolievich walked further into the room. He drew back the curtains completely and grinned when he saw Alex's wince at the bright midday light.

Alex craned his neck to see out of the window. They were full length windows, reaching from the floor to the ceiling and gave off an impressive view of the quarry. Alex remembered what he'd been told about the death of the previous agent and repressed a shudder. Eventually Anatolievich made his way to the side of Alex's bed which Georges had frequented and sat down.

"I am so sorry Alexander." he said sincerely. Alex blinked.

Alex suddenly felt unsure of himself, he'd never had people apologising to him like this before. Usually, they managed to spin it so whatever harm he'd come to had been his own fault. He gave a small smile. "You don't have to be."

Anatolievich shook his head, "I made you go to the theatre, I thought your father was overreacting. From now on, you will always be by my side, I won't let any harm come to you."

Alex tried to look grateful but his stomach felt sick. Anatolievich was going to be around him more? He supposed that had been MI6's aim. Get Anatolievich so worried about him, they'd be forced to be closer together. But how had they known he'd react so strongly?

"I'm perfectly safe here." Alex said weakly, "You've got good security."

Anatolievich shook his head. "Not good enough. In fact, that's what Mr Lindsay is in a meeting about right now. He's hiring a new head of security."

Shit. If it would have been hard to escape before, now it was going to be impossible.

"I'm really not that special-" he began but stopped when he saw Anatolievich's face.

"Alexander," he began solemnly, "you have rather rapidly become one of the most important things in my life. You've been in it for less than even a week, but I would be devastated if something were to happen to you. Knowing you were my responsibility, I couldn't live with myself."

At the man's words something began to ache inside of Alex. He was important to someone for what seemed like the first time in years. Ian's work had always been his first priority, even at seven Alex had seen that. MI6 just wanted to use him, they didn't care whether he lived or died, as long as he got the job done. Jack's affection had come close, but she was gone. Anatolievich was right here, and he wanted to look after him. To protect him. To-

The harsh reality of why Anatolievich liked him so much came crashing down like a wave of anguish. Anatolievich wanted to love him, but as a partner, not a child. Sarov had wanted to keep him as a son, to love him as a son and without Alex he'd seen no point in life. Anatolievich wanted to do things to him, wanted Alex to do things back. It seemed like a small price to pay for someone's love and care. He reached over with his good arm and wrapped it around Anatolievich's, pressing his head against the side of the man's shoulder. It felt nice.

"Thank you." he said sincerely, voice cracking slightly. Anatolievich's hand moved to caress his hair once again and Alex found he didn't hate it so much.